


the heartbreak.

by dames_for_jamesbarnes



Series: i stole your heart (and broke it, too) [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dames_for_jamesbarnes/pseuds/dames_for_jamesbarnes
Summary: “he’s a confidence man.”your eyes are blurred, tears dripping down your cheeks. it’s the FBI, the federal bureau of investigation is standing in front of your apartment building, and they’re looking for aaron hotchner.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: i stole your heart (and broke it, too) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931206
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	the heartbreak.

“he’s a confidence man.” 

your eyes are blurred, tears dripping down your cheeks. it’s the FBI, the federal bureau of investigation is standing in front of your apartment building, and they’re looking for aaron hotchner. 

“i didn’t… i didn’t know.” 

“aaron hotchner. confidence man. i’m going to ask you one more time. you’re teling me you didn’t know a thing about it?” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, i don’t, i swear…” your head falls, heels of your hands pressing into your eyes. 

_your_ aaron hotchner. 

when they’d first stormed in, when you’d screamed at them, half-dressed, to get out, they’d been kind enough. had let you pull on a shirt before they started the twenty questions, holstering their weapons when they realized all that was in the apartment was a woman scared out of her mind. and at first you’d laughed it off, thinking it was some kind of hilarious mistake - aaron hotchner, thief?

but then they’d showed you the photos. and some film. and at the end of it all, they’d told you everything. 

he steals. he lies. he cheats. 

“he’s the idea guy, ma’am. he comes up with the plans, and he takes what he wants. usually a cut of the grab. the past few years he’s been involved in cons responsible for damages worth over $100 million. if you don’t know about that, then… maybe at least you can tell us where the hell he is.”

aaron hotchner. he has… he has names, other names, names that aren’t the one he told you. he has aliases and histories and a fucking warrant out for his arrest - 

“where is he, ma’am?” 

you’ve sat up, now. you realize a voice is urging you to answer, but you just blink, over and over. maybe, if you close your eyes and open them, they’ll be gone. but he doesn’t stop yelling, and you don’t stop crying, the pressure from your hands just making you dizzy. you’d come out of the damn place to get air, but everything feels like it closes in. 

your fingers twist around your ring, catching on the diamond there. 

“i don’t know,” you repeat, because that’s what you’re realizing now, sitting on the curb, grass and concrete digging into your thighs at the hem of your skirt. you don’t know a damn thing. 

“what do you mean, you don’t know?” they ask, and their voices are softer now. good of them to recognize that pushing, _yelling_ , doesn’t do jack shit.

you blink again slowly rising to your feet. “i mean, i don’t know. he goes on… business trips. long ones. for the… the _consulting_ -“ and even trying to say it makes you lean over and almost vomit into the grass in front of the apartment you could never justify affording on your own. “it’s all so last minute, he doesn’t… tell me about it until he gets there. he just left… god, he _just_ left…” 

it was an apartment for a pair, after all, a duo, a couple, one that he had signed the lease for with a big and beautiful smile while you bounced on your toes. that smile. just for you, so bright. he never smiles like that on the calls he takes, the work calls.

you tease him about it. aaron hotchner, always looking so glum. and he always responds that it’s because he’s getting pulled away from you.

but what does he do when he’s out of your sight? who does he smile with?

your fingers grip the edge of your skirt, pull it down and brush the grass off of it. when you shakily lift yourself to full height again, there’s something sharp in your gaze, a honed edge, and you move to wrap your hastily thrown-on cardigan around your body, tight. it’s a shield, the only one you have, because all your walls come down when it comes to aaron.

“so you don’t know where he could be?” they ask you, their glares fierce behind dark sunglasses.

“anywhere between here and hollywood,” you snap, and you start moving back to the apartment, because god knows it’s not yours anymore. “this is over. we’re done here.”

“mrs. hotchner -“

your _own_ last name. a lie. 

“stop.” you hand lifts, as they move to follow you, and something makes them listen. maybe it’s the way your eyes have gone dull instead of glassy, or the fact that you’re barefoot standing on hot concrete. “i’m done answering questions. i’m going inside, i’m packing a bag, and i’m leaving. i’m going to get a lawyer, my own apartment, and i’m suing that son of a bitch for divorce.”

(you never curse at work. never. he teases you about it, aaron hotchner, tells you that the paintings won’t mind a little crude language.

“what do you know about the attitudes of nineteenth century portraits?” you shoot back, and when he smiles it’s the prelude to arms around your waist, a mouth against your neck.

“enough to know they’d agree. i’m looking at a masterpiece.”)

“ma’am, if you could just wait a moment -“

“and say what?” your voice is shrill now, panicked. the doors to your place slide open, the spectacle entertainment for the neighbors. “i’ve told you, over and over again, that i don’t know anything! i just know he’s not fucking here, you understand? he’s a _liar_. he lied to me this whole damn marriage. he’s a _thief_ , and i didn’t know a fucking thing about it! so i’m calling my lawyer, and i’m going to court, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“ma’am -“

“get out. final warning.”

by some miracle, and the threat of a lawsuit, they listen and leave. but you know they’re watching, even when the ones with bulletproof vests get into vans and drive away.

you know they see you pack. methodical, easy, into one of his bags he flies with. you pack it, like he does, with enough clothes to last for a few unexpected days of travel. you heft it over your shoulder, turn back to look at the home you had with a liar. with a thief.

“you’re lucky he didn’t steal from you,” one of them had told you, after searching your bedroom, your home, your life. tearing it all apart and not bothering to put it back together again. 

you think about the years, now, of standing by his side. dating him. marrying him. loving him. 

lucky. that’s what they’d said? lucky that he didn’t take a damn thing? 

as you felt your heart break, you couldn’t help but wonder how true that really was. 


End file.
